Falling For The Enemy
by BloodRedShadows
Summary: DraculaOC. Don't know where this is going yet, Possibly a romance. Please R&R, and be easy on me! First story, enjoy! No flames.ON HOLD UNTIL I GET A VAGUE SOURCE OF INSPIRATIONPLOTLINE.
1. The Battle

**Okay! This is the first ever piece of writing I've put up here. I know, it's really suck, but I tried! ... I'm going to dedicate it to Remember and Angel of Beauty, because if it wasn't for Remember i wouldn't of known Angel, and Angel is the one who gave me the inspiration to put it up! Oh, and I'm basing the woman off myself, I have green eyes and brown hair, it's not Elizabeth! But still thanks you two. I love you muchly! Having a seemingly stressful day, I wanted a fight. So I wrote one out. Yay! It's mega short, but.. I couldn't think of anything to add. Enough of my going ons, go read! And please review? I'd like to know what people think. (Please don't flame me, I'll cry)**

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**Two armies were to fight. One side were to protect the land they stood on, the other to snatch it away. The sides were stood to face each other, thousands of men on each side. It was cloudy, and raining, yet so silent as to hear the wind blow. Amongst the protectors, stood the Count, an extremely violent and deadly man when it came to fighting. His determination was in his eyes, that bright blue shining through his armour helmet. His armour was black metal, with the insignia on the chest of that like all the others - A Dragon. He rode a beautiful black horse, it's black mane bellowing in the wind like that of it's masters. The Count's grip was like Iron around his stunning silver sword. "They are getting ready to march, sir!" shouted one of his officers, panic in his voice. This upcoming war would be tough, and he was afraid."Then, let them come! Do not doubt this battle, Andrew, have some faith in yourself!" the Count spat, clearly annoyed that this boy dare doubt his armies force. Andrew bowed his head slightly, before galloping off to his position on his brown horse. 

On the opposing side, the leader was no mere man - But a woman. Full of a fiery attitude, and trained for war all her life. Armoured in silver, she sat amongst a pure white horse, it's white mane blowing wildly in the wind. The woman had her brown, curly hair tucked up under her helmet. Anyone would mistake her for a man with her armour. Her piercing green eyes followed out to look at her enemy, the enemy she would slaughter to victory.  
She had her treasured sword strapped to her waist, the one she has carried all her life, the sword she had won so many battles with.  
She nodded her head to a young man, giving him the signal to sound the horn that would set both sides into a battle most would die in.

The battle cry was sounded, and the attacking army ran forward - Clashing with the defenders. Screams were heard from both sides, each getting ravaged by swords of the other side. It was utter carnage, blood already starting to cover the floor. The rain making it flow like a river. Hours went by, and the defenders seemed to have the upper hand, and bodies of men from both sides now littered the battlefeild, bathed in blood. The woman was off her horse, it had been killed - And was now on foot slashing through the men who flew at her. She was very skilled with the sword, but now had doubts on coming out of this alive. She was suddenly stabbed from behind, a spear coming through her shoulder. She screamed in agony, whirling around and ripping the spear from her body. She decapitated the man, blood smeered on her face. Luckily, it was her left shoulder and she was still able to swing a sword.

The Count was bloodied up, a nasty gash across his arm but that was all. He was also, very talented with the sword, and his side was winning. He grinnned. Ahead, he saw one man who was slaughtering his men like they were nothing, the bodies starting to heap up around him. He grinned before galloping over, kicking the man down to the floor. The man got up then, swinging his sword to the Count, but missing by a mere inch. He growled.  
"You've made quite a mess of my men, have you not?" The Count smirked.  
"And I'll make a mess of you!" The man cried out his voice sounding awfully feminine. The Count laughed, jumping down from his horse. He removed his helmet, throwing it to the blood covered ground. He saw this man's wound, and the blood was dripping from it profusely. The man swung his sword, making a light gash across the Count's chest, damning him for jumping back in time. The Count swung his own sword to clash against the others, he stood about a head taller than his enemy. 'I'll make him an extra head shorter, too!' he thought to himself, smirking. The two fought mercilessly for a while, the man becoming much weaker due to bloodloss. That spear was thick bladed, forced through her armour, and had been twisted to avoid it being healed too soon. The Count kicked the man down, and pinned him there with his foot. "Let me see the face of the man who has killed so many men of mine," He smirked. "and the one who I shall take pleasure in killing"  
The man lifted an arm, and threw the helmet to the side. This was no man, this was a woman! The Count's eyes widened in shock, what was she doing here? He took in her bloody appearence, her glaring green eyes, her brown hair now becoming darker from the blood on the floor. Her perfect skin, and her full, luscious lips which were snarling at him in anger.  
"A woman? A woman killed so many of my men?" He stepped off her, lowering his sword, after kicking hers away to the side.  
"Yes, a woman. Now go ahead, and end my life!" She yelled, she did not want the shame of returning home with no victory. She would be deemed a coward, most to think she had ran away. The Count couldn't bring himself to do it. "No. You shall be a servant, to clean my floors, cook my food. Maybe you could be of help in upcoming battles." He replied, seeing the shock on her face. He should of killed her, now to fight against the ones she had protected with her life!  
"Never, you bastard! I will not work for my enemy!" The Count grinned at her reply, and ordered for her to be tied up, and taken back home with them. She was the only one left, and he had the remainders of about 30 men. She was not strong enough. She had failed.

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****There you go! Short, crap, and overall pathetic - But I did put something down. And I could maybe add on, you know... PLEASE REVIEW NICELY! Don't burn me! Thankyou. :)**


	2. Introductions

**Here you go! I guess I sort of had it coming, to make this continue - and Im overjoyed by the response I got. Grins I'm dedicating this to Remember and Angel of Beauty once more, because they're the two special people who really got me going. I haven't forgot Katie Van Helsing, Memory from a Dream - Thankyou so much for your reviews! you're awesome.Thankyou, SO SO MUCH! Muah! Love you all! REVIEW! (I don't intend to seem like Remember with the REVIEW bit. :P)

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They had been travelling for the whole day, and she was exhausted. She felt tired, depressed, pained, and dirty. She had her hands bound to a cart carrying supplies with a thick, rough rope and it was burning into her flesh. Hours of struggling, and a rough journey had done that to her. The wound had by now had stopped bleeding, but was sore, and hurt whenever the cart jolted. It was probably going to get infected. She didn't care.Her dirty brown hair clung to her face, and her green eyes were puffy and red from tears. Her tears were of anger, and sorrow. She had lost many friends in that battle, and it was weighing on her. Another tear fell. She was angry at how she didn't understand what to do next - She had no choice to go this path, no choice but to become worthless, for her years upon years of fighting. She clenched her eyes closed, and put on a strong face. She was in the hands of the enemy, and she was not going to show weakness. Ever.

The Count rode from the back, to the front and randomly went places. He was checking things were in order. He finally stopped riding around, and stayed nearby the cart. The prisoner was bound with no way out, she was too weak to release herself. She carried no weapons, but he had placed her sword in the pack his horse carried. He figured it could come in useful, one day. His ebony hair was placed back by a silver hairclip, a few strands falling out of place to wave around his face with the breeze. His endless pools of blue stared down at the frail being in front of him. She was so delicate, so frail. Her life was in his hands, and he felt powerful about it. He felt her losses though, she was the only survivor, and she probably blamed herself. He was curious, to what her name was. He would ask her later on.

They travelled another hour, and Transylvania only remained a day or two ahead of them now. It was getting dark - time to set up camp for the first time. "We shall stay here the night, be ready to leave by sunrise." The Count ordered, the men stopping and shuffling about to set up camp in the clearing theCount had directed. He jumped down from his horse, and swiftly cut the womans ropes. She looked up at him, with a cold, expressionless face. They held eye contact for a minute or two, before he dragged her away to where his tent was set up, throwing her inside and stepping in behind her.  
"You will be sleeping in here tonight, I can't run the risks of you getting away now, can I?" He said, grabbing the rope that still bound her wrists, and tying her back up - to a post he had in the center. She groaned as her shoulder slammed hard against the wooden pole, but just looked away. She wasn't letting him have the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. He looked at her appearence, and her wound. It needed to be cleansed, and dressed if she was to survive an infection. He ordered for a bowl of hot water, a cloth and some clean dressing to be brought to him, before kneeling down - reaching over to remove her armour. She struggled, despite the pain.  
"Get off me, you pervert!" she yelled, kicking him to the ground. He hadn't thought of that. He got up, and growled before slapping her across the face; her head forced to the side, and a clear bruise forming on her cheek. She winced, and supressed her cries. "You stupid woman! I'm trying to help you, your wounds will become infected! Do you want that!" How dare she kick him, he had shown her the mercy of letting her live, despite her seeing that otherwise.  
"Yes! I want that!" she cried, "Why didn't you show me death today! You're a fool, to think I'll ever be of help to you! Why can't I be with the others? My friends, my family!" She was letting her feelings out at him, he was the cause of it all. He looked at her, and felt a pang of guilt. He brushed it aside.  
"I didn't show you death, because you do not deserve it! I will hold you back as long as I can, because **you** tried to take over my lands! I will make your life a misery, and make you live it!" He growled, his voice loud and threatening. He yanked the armour off her, making her scream out in agony. She struggled still, her defiance getting the better of her. He held her still as he cleansed the wound with a cloth - Andrew had placed the items in quietly, not wanting to get involved in the arguement. The Count managed to clean and dress the wound, then threw her a blanket. "Was that so bad? Hm?" He questioned, pulling off his own armour and changing into something to sleep in. He didn't care what she saw, what could she say about it? Nothing was revealed, anyway. She just turned her head away, embarrassed still from him removing her armour. She didn't even notice his undressing.

Andrew came into the tent then, with two bowls of soup, and some bread. He placed them down, before bowing and leaving the tent once more - not needing to say a word. The Count untied her hands, and gave her the bowl, with some bread. He sat down himself, on his bed and ate, keeping an eye on the woman, to make sure she didn't get any ideas. She knew he was watching her, it was pointless to try for an escape. Then again, where _would_ she go anyway?  
After about fifteen minutes, they had both finished, and sat staring at one another.  
"We have not introduced ourselves, have we? I'll start," he stood, and bowed lightly. "I, am Count Vladislaus Dragulia." He waited for her response. "Phoebe Lacinia." she answered, still not amused by the outbursts they had earlier. She was wrapped in her blanket, thanks to Vladislaus. He then made his way to his bed, which he got into, ready to sleep.  
"Goodnight, Phoebe." "Goodnight, Count."

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**And that's the end! Well, of this chapter. I won't have anymore out until next week - I'm having a holiday away, hoorah! I really hope you're as pleased with this one as you were with the last. Maybe this is my downfall, who knows. Please review, don't flame:D**


	3. Memories

**I'm back! I'm sorry it took so long to update, but I had "Writers block", after the first 2 chapters. I suck, I know. A HUGE thankyou for all that reviewed! I love your reviews, I know how Remember feels now. I'm going to just say, this chapter pretty much was my own feelings. Well, I'll give you the chapter that's taken me somewhat ages to write. Please enjoy, I feel though I'm... Going downhill. I really do.**

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Phoebe opened her bright, green eyes to someone nudging her. It was the Count, or Vladislaus - as she had found out the night before. He was knelt to her side.  
"Finally awake, Phoebe? Good. We're setting off in about 5 minutes, after everything is packed up. Get up."  
She grumbled, and was about to throw a snide comment on why she couldn't get up - Only to find her bounds were gone. He had cut them, _of course_. She slowly got up, using the pole to support herself. Her shoulder was still very sore, but she could already tell it was going to get better. She could feel the bruise on her cheek though, she'd get him back for that. Maybe. She was taken outside to the cart once more, the Count tying her up again.  
"Are these really necessary? God! They **hurt**, damn it!" She moaned, wincing as the rope fitted its place onto her sore wrists.  
"Of course they're necessary - You'd run away, or try to, if you were not bound. I can't allow a prisoner, or slave, to get away, can I? Besides,you could be of great help." He sneered, mounting his beautiful, black horse.He had once again got his armour on, probably having got dressed while she was asleep.  
Phoebe sighed deeply, he had a point. How could he trust her? After a few more minutes of silence, the cart started moving. They were once more heading to this destination where her life would be proved worthless. That struck a pain in her heart, she had wanted to get somewhere in life. To make her Father proud. But not now, she was a captive. _A failure_.  
The Count looked down at her, and sensed how she was in deep thought. He could see the anguish, and sorrow on her face, and felt a pang of guilt. He looked away, to where the sun was rising, and took a breath of the fresh, morning air. 

They had been walking for a few hours now, and the men were tired. The Count would not let them have a break though, they were too close. Phoebe didn't take any notice of anything going on around her, she kept her head down in her thoughts, and memories.

_Her Father had gone out to war, and she was there with him. Fighting alongside him. Everything was going well for them, until she saw the blade coming out from her Father's chest. She screamed and cried, brutally killing the man who had just stabbed her Father. She collapsed in a heap, holding her Father's head in her lap. His blood covered her, but she didn't care. This couldn't be happening. He looked into her eyes, and gripped her hand weakly. "I'm so sorry, Phoebe... Just know that I love you, and I always will...Make me proud..." With that, he took his last dying breath, and his eyes fell closed.  
"Father, please don't go! You can't leave me alone this way! I love you! Please!" She cried out, she screamed. Tears streamed down her face like rivers. She didn't move from her spot, and somehow, the war ended without her being stabbed herself._

She snapped her head up, coming out of her trance like state, and felt the wetness on her cheeks. She let out a sob, that memory hurt her more than anything. That sob grabbed the Count's attention, and he turned to look at her. He noticed her tears.  
"What is wrong?" He actually sounded concerned.  
"Nothing, leave me alone." She spat, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. She turned her head away from him, and held back the tears that still threatened to fall.  
"I'm not convinced, Phoebe. We're nearly there though. We'll carry on through the night, and we will arrive in no more than 2 hours time." With that, he galloped off to tell the other men his plans, and she was left alone. For now.

She began to sing, a small melody she had learnt as a young teenager. She wrote it herself, for her Mother who passed away when she was five.

_In this world you tried  
Not leaving me alone behind  
There's no other way  
I prayed to the gods let him stay  
The memories ease the pain inside,  
Now I know why  
_

_All of my memories keep you near.  
In silent moments,  
Imagine you'd be here.  
All of my memories keep you near,  
Your silent whispers, silent tears_

_Made me promise I'd try To find my way back in this life.  
I hope there is a way To give me a sign you're okay.  
Reminds me again it's worth it all So I can go home._

_All of my memories keep you near.  
In silent moments,  
Imagine you'd be here.  
All of my memories keep you near,  
Your silent whispers, silent tears._

_Together in all these memories I see your smile.  
All the memories I hold dear.  
Darling, you know I'll love you till the end of time._

_All of my memories keep you near.  
In silent moments,  
Imagine you'd be here.  
All of my memories keep you near,  
Your silent whispers, silent tears._

_All of my memories..._

With that, she burst out in sobs - Not caring who saw. She cried out her tears of sorrow, and anguish. Tears for her friends, and her family. She had no-one left, and her life seemed worthless. Would it of been worthless had she won that war? Probably.  
Vladislaus cut her bounds and picked her up, sitting her to face him on his horse, before cradling her to his chest. It was more of an instinct, even if she _was_ his captive. He wrapped his muscled arms around her, and allowed her to cry into his shirt. He had taken off his armour, from the heat - And was now in a black shirt, and black trousers, with black riding boots over them. His pools of blue stared down at the shaking form in his arms. Did she fear him? He hoped not. That was not what he had intended. Was she opening up to him? She didn't fight back...  
Phoebe cried into his chest, clinging onto him like her life depended on it. She didn't care who he was, she needed someone right now - And he had offered it by placing her there. Years of sorrow and pain were flowing from her eyes, she hadn't had the time to mourn for her family - And now she had taken all her friends into a war in which none survived. She felt selfish.

When her sobs finally subsided, and she had calmed down, she pulled back slightly. Deep, blue pools met mint green ones.  
"Thankyou," She murmered.  
"You're welcome. I don't want to scare you, and I don't intend on harming you in any way. Just so you know,"  
She smiled, and lent her head forward again, to rest against his now damp, yet muscled chest. There, she let her eyes close and she fell into a light slumber, with the protective grip around her form. Vladislaus looked down upon her once again, and shook off his shock, then smiled to himself - Trotting off to lead the rest of his men through the forest which would lead them home.

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**Okay! I'm hoping that sates your thirsts for the time being. I've gave it a slight happy ending, don't you think? I have a few notes jotted down as my storyline - so Im doing all this from the top of my head, pretty much. Writing this has made me feel a whole lot better about things, and if you guessed about my Father - You're probably right. Please review? They would make my day. :D  
The song is calledMemories, byWithin Temptation. I love that song. **


	4. A New Life

**Woo, new chapter. Dedicated to Remember, because she's having doubts with her own stories. GO GIVE HER SUPPORT! SHE ROCKS! This chapter is all for you, and I'm going to try and make it a little longer than usual for you. You shouldn't doubt any of your work, you're so good. I love you, a lot! And you've really helped me out, despite you not knowing me. Thanks hon, you're awesome!  
Thankyou everyone for your reviews, they're deeply appriciated, and they've stopped me from quitting, which I did think about. You guys make my day everyday. Thankyou, so much! Now, here's chapter 4 - Without further delay. :D

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The bright sun was now blaring down upon the tired and weary travellers backs, after sleeping the night in the forest. Today, they would reach the gloomy town - And Phoebe's life would start once more. This would be completely new, and the previous night had she realised this could be as good as she made it. Vladislaus didn't intend to hurt her, and by staying with his army, she wouldn't have the guilt on her back if she lost a battle. Not that they would, mind you.  
Vladislaus had given her a horse of her own, they had a few spare which keepers had been killed in the gruesome battle that had taken place mere days ago. The bodies would probably still be there, and to go there would be fatal. Fatal to the mind. Images of days old corpses, and the stench that hangs in the air of the deceased. The blood that stains the once peaceful terrain, and the weapons to be long forgotten. Phoebe had stumbled to that, to see her victory the next day. What a terrible mistake she had made. Though, it was now long forgotten, and nothing but a memory.  
She now rode aside the Count, her simple, plain, brown horse nothing compared to the majestic, black stallion that he rode on. She didn't mind, she wasn't going to be picky on her horse. As long as she wasn't getting dragged along by a cart, she was fine. She considered herself lucky to be caught by Vladislaus, and not some evil, grimey being. Still, she may of let her defences down, but they were back up, and not ready to come down for a long time. She was going to build up her reputation in this new life as she had thought of it as, and be the tough, sarcastic bad-ass she was once before. Oh yes. She smirked to herself.  
"There it is, Phoebe. Home." The Count's voice took her attention, and he pointed to a village in the distance. She squinted, the sun still bright, and saw mounds of grey which would probably be houses of some sort. She could see the village church from her position, and what looked like a castle rested upon the top of a hill, overlooking the village from it's place. The town was quite small, and gloomy. She wondered, if the people living there would match the town's personality, cold and gloomy. "Nice." She replied, with a swift nod. Even if it wasn't 'nice', it was her kind of place to be. Isolated, and simple. Dark, gloomy and grey. That, to her, was better than the place she had spent her life in - And she always liked a change of scenery.  
"You're going to live in my manor, or castle. Whatever you'd prefer to call it. That way, I can keep you around, and you can see the battle plans when they come up. You're an amazing fighter, and maybe - Just maybe, you can help out with new recruits. You're no novice in battle, and I'm sure you have a lot of experience to teach in that pretty little head of yours. I've already pointed out I'm not to be your enemy, it's your time to prove you can be worthy once again."With that, he rode ahead - The village only about ten minutes away.  
"Oh, I'll prove my worthiness to you, Vladislaus. You can count on it." She grinnned, and followed the Count, full of her pride and confidence for the first time in years.

They had arrived in the village of Vaseria, and now settled around a large dining table in the Count's home. On her way in, she had took in the gorgeous, stunning sights of the place. The front door was at least twice her size, maybe more, and had extremely detailed carvings in the front. They opened to reveal a red and gold hallway, lavishly decorated in marvelous statues, rugs, paintings which were painted long ago, and a few plants. Long, heavy drapes were to the side of ceiling-high windows, which revealed the beauties of the outside. Mountains loomed in the distance, and a lush, green meadow lay before them. She looked around at the dining room, the ceiling displayed a huge painting of angels, and a gorgeous chandelier hung elegantly above them.  
The plate in front of her contained her small, yet delicious meal, and she had a glass of a rich wine. She had soon finished, as with the others at the table, and wished to retire to a bed sometime soon. Still, she didn't have a clue where her bedroom was, she hadn't been shown anything but the dining room. She needed some rest, and the others on the table looked how she felt.  
The Count then stood, noting how tired everyone was. He would allow them to retire soon enough.  
"I thank you all, for coming this far with me. you have gone into a gruesome battle - and made it out alive. God bless those who gave their lives for our lands, their deaths were not in vain!" He spoke, everyone but Phoebe rising from their seats, and pumping a fist into the air. They showed their approval, but Phoebe felt on the other side of the board - She wasn't fighting in their war. She had fought her own. Her army's death was in vain, she felt those familiar feelings starting to rise within her. She knocked them aside, as if fighting her own battle inside.

After the cheers had stopped, the Count took the men to their rooms - And bid them a good rest. He took Phoebe to her room last, closing the door behind him - staring at her intently.  
"In a week or so, you will be training the new men. I trust you'll behave yourself, and to not be foolish. You have nothing to run away from, in case I haven't made that clear enough to you. This is your permanent room, and your bathroom is through there," he motioned towards a big, dark door on the opposite side of the luxurious room, "and you know where the dining room is. Breakfast is served at 9am every morning, if you're hungry." He nodded to her, and she nodded back.  
"Thankyou, Count"  
"You're welcome, Phoebe. Goodnight." He smiled, before leaving the room and shutting the door gently behind him.

She gazed around the deep red room. It was lavishly decorated, pictures of beautiful scenery stuck on the walls, like open windows, and a chandelier hung in the middle of the room, from a high ceiling. It was silver, unlike the gold ones in the house. The room had a theme of Reds, and silver. the doors, wardrobe, desk and bed were made from a deep, dark wood - And a set of satin bedcovers, a red so dark they looked like blood, covered the grand four poster bed. Matching sheer drapes hung like curtains around the bed, as if to protect the sleeper. The wardrobe was near the bathroom door, and the desk was next to the ceiling high window. Thick black curtains were open, to reveal the outside. Phoebe yawned. She was so tired, she didnt bother changing her clothes. She simply removed everything but her underwear and shirt, and flopped onto the soft bed, sinking into its soft touch. She closed her eyes, and sleep took over her mind - Pulling her into a temporary darkness.

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**There you go! I really hoped you enjoyed this, I'm having a troubles with a few things lately. Nothing for you to worry about dears! Please review, I love to hear what you have to say. Sorry if it seems to be having a slightly slow beginning, I think it'll start soon. Do any of you have ideas on that? As I said, Im doing this all off the top of my head, and I have nothing written out for me to go along by. It's pretty hard, but I think I have another story planning out. That won't be up for a long time though.  
Thanks for reading, please review. :)**


	5. Training and Hidden Trust

**Well.. I've been ages getting this updated, but I had a slight burst of inspiration! Sorry it's so short, but aren't all my chapters?... Meh, I can never seem to think of what to write. Give me pretty reviews, if you can! I love them as much as Remember does! Well - Enough ramble; I give you Chapter 5...**

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A week had since passed, and Phoebe was now standing in the training area, in the backyard. It was was huge, and there was plenty of room to train. Trees were scattered around, and there was a few distant hills in the background. It was nearing autumn, so the leaves were going that slight golden colour. She was to train eight new recruits into the Count's army, and this was her job for god knows how long. She sighed, rubbing her temples slightly. It was a cold day, cloudy and cold. Still, she stood outside with a sleeveless top; after doing some training she'd be warm enough and would only be throwing down her jacket. Her hair was tied back in a bun, though her curly strands still managed to break loose and flow around her face with the wind. Her arms were crossed over her chest, when were these men getting here? Did they even know they were to be trained by a woman? Most men had a problem with that. She'd teach them women could be as good as men, better even.  
A giant gate opened, eight horses with riders came in, in single file. The Count followed behind them, not on his horse, and with his arms behind his back. He was wuite wrapped up, in his big jacket - And seemed a little shocked on her clothing. He didn't comment, however.  
After the group had put away the horses, they were told to stand before Phoebe.

"Where's the trainer, sir?" asked a thin, lanky man. The Count smiled slightly, before nodding to Phoebe.

"She is to be your trainer for the next few months or so."

"What? A woman-"

Phoebe cut him off, "Yes, a bloody woman. Get over it - don't give him a load of moaning, you're here to train, aren't you? Have some damned confidence."

The Count smirked at her reply, and the men seemed a little taken back. Nobody commented back; and a shimmer of appreciation showed on her face.

"I have somewhere to be going, so now you're all sorted out - I'll be away; dinner will be served in a few hours, at noon." The Count then left, heading back into the castle to sort out maps and papers, leaving the group to it with Phoebe as a leader. He wondered if she would actually do this well, if she would try to leave. If she did, then fair enough - It wasn't his problem. He didn't really need her, but it would be great to have her on his own side.

Outside, Phoebe took in the appearences of the men before her. They all seemed on the thin side, with no muscle. She'd work on that first, with running around the garden, if she could call it a garden. The hills at the back would come in handy, running up and down them. There were dummies somewhere around the place, and she would train them on swordsmanship afterwards. She would teach them moves, and how things are like in war. Maybe allow them to fight each other, getting each other to the floor to 'win'.  
They all wore similar clothes, a plain white top with brown bottoms and dark leather boots. Four of the eight had brown hair and eyes, and looked similar. Brothers? Maybe. Three others had different shades of blonde hair, with various eye colours. One looked quite old and had a beard, the others with a small amount of stubble. The last one, who seemed to be the strongest had black hair, long to his mid back and let loose. His face was shaven, and his eyes were a piercing green - Like her own. She found him quite attractive, but wouldnt dwell on it for long. He was here for training, and she wouldn't let herself in for a relationship. _'God, shut up!_'

"Alright boys, I want you to warm up and go run up that hill in the back," she pointed out to a fairly steep one to the left, "after, i want you to run around this..._Garden_, and i want you to do it about three times. Lets see how you get on from there. Welcome to a life of misery, eh?"

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	6. Attractive Royal Ass

**Another update, because... I felt like it! Thankyou Remember, for making me want to write this. I tried to make it a bit longer! Im deciding to make Vlad 30 in this story, for now. :)

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A crow rested upon a branch, high out of harms way. Its black eyes bore down at the group of men who were practising with swords. It nestled its head under its wing, and went to sleep.  
Phoebe yawned, watching the group as the crow did. Her hair was in a ponytail today, the long curls nearly reaching her backside. She wore a long sleeved white top, and her black trousers were tucked into her black boots. She had learnt within the previous two weeks that the four men were in fact brothers, as she assumed. They were quadruplets, Radu, Razvan, Rikke and Rurik. Their parents had died of a reason they didn't wish to talk about - and had decided on being part of the Count's army, since by doing it, they would get shelter and food. The three blondes were not related, but two of them were best friends. They thought life was boring in the village, and thought the army would bring some adventure and thrill. They were quite young, only nineteen, but were fun characters; and very friendly. They had renamed themselves both Jack, for no reason, but wouldn't go by any other name. She laughed a lot when she was around the two, and had grown fond of them like they were young brothers.  
The older blonde haired man had lost his wife a few years ago, and had no children. He wished to be a help to his country, and was thirty eight. He used to be a blacksmith, but with the loss of his wife he had slowly lost his business, and this seemed a great option. He was calm and collected on the outside, but she knew he was still mourning, still torn apart.  
Then there was Ivan, the black haired man. He was quiet, and solitary, but cunning and clever. They had spoken, and his voice mesmerized her. He had told her he was thirty, around her age of twenty-five. He was here because he wanted to prove himself, and thought he had no meaning. He was alone, and didn't say anything of his family. He was a great swordsman, and was stronger than the others. She loved his eyes, and when close up you could see the speckles of blue. She had fallen in love with his eyes as soon as she came closer, and she could see every emotion within them.  
She had gotten closer to the count too, and loved his eyes even more than Ivan's. They were so blue, so alluring, she could stare into them forever. As they had spoken more, she found he was quite cocky, and she could tell he had a darker side. He just put on a mask of a perfect gentleman to show guests, and to show others he was royalty. She knew there was a monster there that gave him a hidden passion for killing, for war.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the cawing of the now woken crow, and she gazed at it as it flew off into the darkening skies. The clashing of swords drew her attention, and she glanced over at the Count, with his sword drawn. Ivan had his own sword against it, and she walked briskly over towards them.

"What's going on?" She asked, both of them looking back at her.

"Nothing-"

"I overheard him talking of my _royal ass_ being so much weaker than his, so I decided I'd test his theory." Replied the Count, cutting off Ivan's comment.

She blinked. Why would Ivan say that?

"Oh...Well..." She stuttered slightly, what was she supposed to say to him? To Ivan? She didn't have to say anything, as the Count kicked Ivan to the floor, smirking.

"Well that's one_ royal ass_ that's a bit stronger than your's, hm? Anyway, Phoebe, I was wondering - Would you walk with me? I have things I'd like to talk to you about."

"Sure," She looked at Ivan on the floor and sighed slightly, helping him up, "you lot get back to training on those dummies; you're getting better." She had noticed everyone had stopped to look at what was going on.  
She walked back with the Count, away from the group. She watched his soft lips move as he spoke, the way he frowned, the way his eyes glittered, and the way he moved. He looked... Attractive? She looked over his body; not knowing what made her so...Curious. His chest seemed fit, perfection, and he looked elegant but had hidden strength. She loved the way his hair seemed so _elegantly rough_, the strands framing his flawless face. Did she just say gorgeous? God... She wondered what secrets he had hidden under his clothes, but shook herself out of it to actually listen to what he was saying.

"It turns out we have a town wanting to raid our own, as they've heard from some people that we have great treasures... I'm unsure what treasures these are, but they're out to destroy me and the people here. I want you and your men to take them out, burn down the village. I need to stay to make sure nobody attacks the village while I'm supposedly gone."

"Fine with me, but, I havent fully trained the men yet... It's only been two weeks..."

"You'll be fine, it's mere townspeople with pitchforks." He seemed to smirk slightly at his own comment, finding it somewhat ammusing.

"Okay. When am I to leave?" She asked, getting excited already. Weeks of training - she had gotten beyond bored.

"Tomorrow morning, if you wish."

She nodded, bowing her head slightly to thank the Count, and heading back off to 'her men'. This was easy, and it would only train her men a little more. She had gotten used to the phrase of 'her men', and found it suited. Still, what else would they be called? It would get agonising to call them all by their names. However, she didn'nt realise the Count was checking her out exactly how she had done to him, his eyes going over her figure, her waist, her ass, and was now smiling to himself.

"_Phoebe, I didn't realise how attractive you were..."

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**Okay! There you go... That's all for now, since I have artwork to be getting on with... Hope it satisfies you, Remember...**


	7. Pitchforks!

**ANOTHER update! This is all Remember's fault... Im not used to updating three chapters in one day... No more now! You'll have to wait, oh yes, you will. ;)  
I hope you enjoy this... I did. It's a little gruesome and well, a little shocking, but it's gonna cause some heated arguements 'later'. Or, so Im planning.

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Phoebe and her men arrived at the town they were sent to destroy. Ivan stood to her side closely, whilst the others were behind. The town looked dull, and it only took an hour or so for them to walk to it. The houses were grey, wooden, and the roofs had holes in. The town looked lifeless, and decayed. There was a lingering stench, but Phobe couldn't place what it was. She placed her hand over her nose and mouth to try and stop smelling it, but to no avail. Her hair was up in a bun once more, to keep it out of the way, and she unsheathed her sword.  
Ivan followed in unsheathing his own sword, and was checking out her body from the corner of his eye. His eyes travelled over her shoulders and neck, down to her chests; rising and falling with each breath she took. His gaze lingered there for a while before going down to her covered stomach, and toned thighs. He was glad she wore tight trousers, suddenly. He felt a feeling of desire, desire for her body, and her touch... But he shook his head; why the hell was he thinking like that? He frowned and looked away, looking around the town.**

"Something's wrong, Phoebe.. It doesn't feel right..." Started Rikke, his hands clenched around his sword tightly.

"Yes.. It's too quiet.." came Razvan's quiet voice.

"Almost like they're expecting us." Said Phoebe, the men nodding their heads. They seemed nervous, but Mourning Jack, as she knew him by, stayed calm. Maybe it was his older age.

Everything seemed so quiet... Not even the chirping of birds could be heard, and the only things they could hear was the rustling of their clothes, and their breathing. The sun was covered by dark clouds, and the air was cold. Somehting -definately- didn't feel right here.  
After a few more seconds of a deafening silence, A crowd of at least fifty people came out from somewhere, and attacked the group from behind. They held swords, sharpened to deadly points, not _pitchforks_! The younger Jack's were knocked to the floor before they could understand what was going on, but Phoebe couldn't see anything else as she was attacked herself. She threw her sword savagely around, Ivan doing the same. Mourning Jack had got out the way of the crowd and was trying to fight the gang off, but there were too many. He was brutally stabbed in the torso, by five blades at a time, slumping down to the floor.  
The quadruplets were teaming together, and the so called _'villagers'_ were hit to the floor. Still, there was so many of them, they couldn't win this.

"**Run**! Run back to the Count!! All of you!" Came Phoebe's voice, "Hurry the fuck up and don't worry about me! **_GO_**!" She cared for these people too much already, and she would not lose any more friends. She ripped her sword through these villagers at a great speed, but had a few nasty gashes. They were definatley expected... How could she not think?!  
Rikke and Razvan heard her, and ran; scared for their brothers but running back to the Count anyway.  
Ivan stayed, he wouldn't let Phoebe do this on her own - She wouldn't do it! There were way too many...

"Go, Ivan! Please! Get the Count, get help, just go! **_I'm not letting you die here_**!" He looked at her with his mouth slightly open to respond, but he backed off and ran as fast as he could in the Count's direction. He hated the Count, but Phoebe needed help - And fast.

Radu and Rurik had been cowards, and hidden in a bush as soon as they saw people coming. They had been chased by a man, but they had managed to kill him, and now sat quivering. They heard Phoebe's yelling, but were too scared to move, in case they were caught and killed. They heard the cries of the two Jack's, and could only guess what happened to them.

Phoebe had gotten a nasty gash on her side, and with a curse, she ran. She ran as fast as she could, the blood from her many wounds covering her clothes. She ran for about ten minutes, before collapsing on the ground, out of breath and in serious pain. The villagers, if thats what they were, left her to run. They cheered, having won, and staked the bodies of all three Jacks just outside the village. They had lost about twenty men, but had won, and didn't seem bothered about the men they had lost. They seemed inhumane, and as deadly as the blades they held.

"**Count**! Count! Phoebe needs your aid, around fifty villagers are attacking her like beasts, she can't last much longer!" Cried Ivan, rushing into the castle; startling a passing maid. He paid her no attention though as he leant on the wall, panting. The Count came down the stairs quickly, a look of concern on his face.

"She can't handle mere villagers?"

"Villagers?! Demons, Id say! They must've all been trained extremely well!" Cried Ivan, holding his ribs.

Phoebe resumed her running, she'd only die out in the wilderness. She was thankful the castle wasn't so far away, but she wondered where everyone was. She was sure Ivan had gotten away safely, but what of the others? Had she lost them, too? It was her fault.. Taking them there with no training... Or was it the Count's fault, for making them leave?

"Count!" Came the cry of Rikke and Razvan, crashing through the door, and making the same maid drop her things. Still, they paid no attention to her, and saw Ivan.

"Phoebe...Our Brothers..." They panted, eyes wide and faces bloody.

"Yes, Ivan told me, Im leaving in a second-"

"Count!" The maid was startled again and dropped the things once more, as Phoebe crashed through the doors and fell to the floor.

The men gasped at her bloody state, but were relieved she had gotten back.

"Phoebe! I had no idea they were-"

"Phoebe! Are you okay?!" Asked Ivan, going over and checking her over, "The Count was about to brush his hair and get his suit cleaned to come look for you..." The Count snarled.

"Shut up, I was right on my way then!" He snapped back, irritated.

"Villagers with **_pitchforks_**?! My ass! Jesus, what the fuck?!" She called out. She had quite the vocabulary.

"Phoebe, I didn't know-"

"Sure you didn't.. I mean, come on! How can you not know it was some army with blades as sharp as.. God, I dont know! They weren't normal!"

"Phoebe, how was I supposed to know? Im sorry how this happened, I am, and I'll get my men there oon to finish them off-"

"You'll get them there, **NOW**! I don't want to lose anymore friends, Count, notice how there's only three out of eight men here?"

"I'll get to it, maid, please take her to her room to get her cleaned up."

The maid nodded, and took Phoebe with Ivan helping to carry her, into the bathroom of her room.  
Rikke and Razvan went back outside to wait for their brothers, and the Count sent a group of twelve of his men to the village to sort out the problem. He massaged the area between his eyes, and sat down. How dare Ivan start that, he'd get him back.. _Oh yes, he would...

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**There you go... I hope you liked it. I particularly enjoyed the maid there, poor thing. I have yet to find some plan of revenge for Ivan, so if you think of any ideas I can put into this, just say so! I dont have anythign written, it's all from the top of my head so... Yeh. ;D _ ...Review, my darlings..._ **


	8. Late Night Entertainment

**Okay... Thankyou for those reviews... So much! Im so flattered and happy... It's not hundreds, but they make me so happy.  
Especially thanks to Remember, since she's just given me that burst of inspiration that I crave to write, when i should be doing my artwork! Damn you, damn it! God... Thanks SO MUCH:P  
I'm glad that unexpected fight came out, and I just couldn't let her go all soft and need back up from a MAN. Lets see how this goes... This will possibly (MAYBE) be the last update for a while since i have exams coming very soon, and I need some work done. But.. Thats a maybe. Maybe I'll write a load on and off for the month or so, then post a big 'un. Then, around 4th December I have work experience for 1-2 weeks, so I'll be busy there too. It's helping around in a hotel if you're curious; doing some cooking, cleaning.. blah...

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The moon was full and glowing, creating eerie shadows amongst Phoebe's lavish room. Curtains flowed gently in the cold breeze, and the drapes of her bed fluttered slightly. Phoebe was deep in her sleep, her wounds now covered and cleaned. Her wild curls spread about the pillow, her chest rising and falling with each small breath. Nearby, the Count was also sleeping; his hair untamed and loose, sprawled beneath his shoulders. He lay there on his back, eyes closed, and arms across his chest. He looked magnificent asleep, mysterious and full of secrecy. His light skin seemed deathly pale in the moonlight, yet still maintaining a healthy glow.

A small noise came from outside, then another. Unknown to the sleeping castle, the villagers were back to attack once more. They were each armed with the demonic blades, and were determined to finish the job. They barged through the giant, wooden door, entering the castle with a thunderous roar of cheering, jolting members of the castle awake quickly. They slaughtered any man or woman they came across, and were attacked by the castle guards. In the hall they fought, the guards outnumbered.

The Count woke with a start, jumping out of his bed and quickly re-dressing. He grabbed his dark blade and ran down the stairs to see his guardsmen failing to hold the group off. He was quickly joined by Ivan, and a few more men, and together they tried to fend off the villagers.

"Ivan!" Cried out the Count, blocking an attack which was aimed for Ivan's neck, "Watch out, you fool!"

"I would've been fine!"

"Of course, when your head is on the floor in your own blood. Maybe I would have preferred it that way." He snarled, stabbing a villager through the gut and pulling his sword upwards, cutting the torso in half. He raked his sword through another man, getting covered in blood.

Phoebe woke up groggily, groaned, and sat up slightly, wincing. She heard noises, yelling... Swords clashing? What was going on? She wasn't going to simply lay there and do nothing, so she got up and grabbed her sword, not caring that she was in a nightgown. She ran to where the noises were coming from and gawped at the bloodshed. They had came back! She only saw the Count and Ivan, the other men were guards. Around fifteen villagers fought, they must have got some new men, as there were at least twenty bodies on the floor by now. She shrugged, and charged right into it, her sword slicing through the arm of a villager, and kicking another one to the floor.

Ivan saw a blue of white and brown, it was Phoebe. What was she doing here?! She was weak from bloodloss, and her wounds were great.. She should be resting in bed, not this. And only in a nightgown!

"Phoebe! Get back to your room!" He yelled, ducking a stab and kicking a man in the chest, sending him and a few others to the floor.

She looked at him, "Im not a god damn child, Ivan, I know what Im doing!"

"No you don't, you're only getting hurt!"

"I've had more experience than you have, don't speak to me like I don't know anything!" She span around and stabbed an enemy in the forehead, twirling back around to hit one in the nose with the hilt of her sword.

"You're only getting in the way!"

The Count heard the two bickering, and came over slightly, after decapitating an older man with ease. "Trust me, she knows what she's doing."

"How does she? In fact, just keep your nose out of this, Count."

"Hello?! Dont act like Im not here!" She was hit in the side, and cried out before striking the man down and stabbing him in the heart.

"Phoebe!" Cried Ivan, concern filling his face.

"She's been in a war with thousands of men and just about god damn won it, I was there, I know these things," He ducked a blow, "she was faced with me at the very end and could have won me, possibly." Phoebe smiled slightly, they both knew she couldn't have won him. "If you two were put in a fight she'd kick your arse in five seconds straight." She blushed a little, was he flattering her?

"Please Phoebe, I care about you... It's under control, here..." He looked at her, his eyes pleading with her. But she wasn't having any of it. There were around seven men left.

"_**You** _have it under control because I've killed most since you two were having a discussion about my capabilities." The Count shrugged, she was right.

After a short while, the villagers were in pieces, strewn across the marble floor. All sorts of body pieces were around, and blood was seeping, still spurting out of a few victims body pieces. Phoebe, Ivan, and the Count sat on the stairs, panting and covered in blood. A few scratches were here and there, but they were overall fine, except for Phoebe who still had her wounds from the other day.

"Ivan, go get yourself cleaned up. You look like shit." Phoebe grinned, patting him on the back as he stood and left, a little embarrassed about the situation earlier.

Once he had left, Phoebe leaned to the side, throwing her hair back over her shoulders and neatening her bloodied nightgown. The Count's hair hung in his face, having not had time to put it back in a ponytail earlier in his bedroom. He stared over at the bodies, or pieces of them, amazed they had done all that in around thirty minutes only. Especially since they were asleep before that. He expected some kind of clumsiness, but maybe the shock shook that option out the way. His thoughts were taken away when Phoebe spoke; her voice soothing his mind instantly, though he didn't even realise it himself.

"You know I wouldn't have been able to beat you, Count."

"Call me Vlad, '_Count_' gets a bit too formal. And maybe so, but you were close to it."

"Isn't it strange complimenting me on being able to kill you or not?" She snorted, finding the idea quite amusing.

"Not really. You don't have the intention now, do you?"

"No, not now. You've turned out quite the guy." She liked him, a little.. She wouldn't admit it, but he had a gorgeous body, and adored the comments he gave about her this evening. She wanted to know what he was like, she'd have to talk to him a bit more.

"Quite the guy, hm?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well... I mean... Well, I don't know!"

"You mean I'm just so strong, sexy and smart?"

"What? I didn't say-"

"But you were thinking it."

"I wasn't!"

"Was too, Im just too good to keep your eyes off me." He had seen her the other day, but he didn't say anything. He found it amusing, she stared at him for ages.

"I don't check you out!" She went a little red, he hadn't caught her!

"Oh? I don't recall saying that you did, I simply said you couldn't keep your eyes off me. You look a little flustered, Phoebe." He smirked.

She stood up, and ran back to her room, throwing her blade to the floor, slamming the door and collapsing on the bed.

"What an **asshole**!" She let out a frustrated cry, but got up and changed into a clean nightgown anyway, getting back into the warmth of her bed. She went to sleep quickly, exhausted from fighting with the wounds she had. Her face still remained a light pink, she hated being put on the spot like that. At least Ivan wasn't such a cocky man!

The Count soon followed, yawning and tired. After giving orders for the bodies and mess to be cleaned up, he slumped back to his bedroom, putting his sword neatly back in its place before snuggling back under his covers, smirking about Phoebe. She looked cute when she went red and he liked it when she was angry. _She could be fun...

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**There you go! Im sorry it's.. short? Well, Remember pretty much made the whole plot for this, so she's getting the credit. Sorry it's not as good as you had written hon, but it's so late and Im exhausted; needed to get it done for you, though! Busy weekend, you see. Take care, everyone, and have a fun weekend. :)**


	9. Notice

Okay, Im putting up a notice - Simply because you (all of who read it) should know I dont know about carrying this story on.  
I'm having a hard time right now dealing with a lot of things, and I have no inspiration for this, or even a plotline. I render myself unable to handle a story on my own, and I dont even know if i could make this continue with someone helping me. I think the story is very weak, and the beginning chapter should have just stayed as a one shot type of thing because it's just getting worse. Maybe you don't agree, but thats how i feel about it. I feel it needs deleting, and I dont even know about having an account on here. The only reason for this account should be to review on things. 

Remember, if you read this/when you read this, Im sorry for not checking up on your story etc. I've been too depressed to even be online, and just.. Gah. Im so sorry, because you deserve at least a review from me.

Im upset and depressed or whatever because of family things, stress, etc. It's not just a moment, and it's not a lack of reviews. It;s nobodies fault but my own.

Once more, Im sorry.

BloodRedShadows


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